Aching Daze
by if i may go
Summary: AU. A love story told in 79 days.


**Pairing(s): **Dean/Castiel, Dean/Benny**  
****Words: **4, 374**  
****Warnings: **kissing, unrequited "love", masurbation (if your iffy about that)**  
****Summary: **A love story told in 79 days.  
**AN:** For **butteredsupernatural** who submitted a prompt to **destielficprompts**: _I would really love a Destiel fic from Benny's POV._ You asked for something light and fluffy, sadly, this is not – well, just a tiny bit. Thank you** Endine** for the help and crit, it's truly been wonderful talking with you :)

* * *

**1.**

Benny remembers dry heat and freckles. A song crackling on the speakers, the crooning voice of a man (_when the children cry let them know we tried_) floating in the air with the smell of salty fries and caffeine. Low, soft, and lovely wafting across the small diner and Benny can't help but tap his fingers.

He takes a seat on one of the high stools lined in front of the solid grey counter. A drop of sweat runs down his left temple, falling to the white, threadbare shirt he has on. He sips from a glass of water, this cute bright-eyed waitress placed before him not a second ago, flirty smile and all. A kid takes the seat beside him.

A green-eyed, smiling kid, wearing a black tee and ratty jeans.

"Hey," green-eyes says.

Benny nods in his direction and sets the cool glass of water down on the countertop.

"So. You new 'round here?"

He snorts, because seriously? "What're you tryin' to do kid – proposition me?"

Green-eyes cracks a smile. "Name's Dean."

". . . Benny."

* * *

**2. **

Next day, Benny finds himself walking on empty streets leading to the diner. He treks quietly, streetlights pour over him, casting his shadow onto the dirty concrete. A misty, night wind blows; leaves fly and dust falls.

He finds a melody stuck in his head and hums. Lightly. The feel of words stick in his throat and press upwards, filling his mouth, yet Benny's stuck with nothing to say. Yesterday's song is repeating guitar chords and bass, drums non-existent.

"Come back to see me?" a lewd voice asks.

Benny knows it's Dean, no one else talks in a provocative drawl; he rolls his eyes. "Nah, man. Want one of those bacon-cheese's though."

Dean smirks. "Right," he says, "come on then."

They walk together, under the piss-yellow lamplights. Dean whistles the tune stuck in Benny's throat and progresses to sing the lyrics in his rough and velvety voice. His words crack on a few notes, breathing falters, but he throws his head back as he sings to the stars.

"What song's that?" Benny asks. "Been stuck in my head all day man," he adds seconds later.

"You heard it yesterday, didn't you?" He chuckles. "Cas's song: 'When the Children Cry'."

And fuck if Benny's ever heard of a band or singer called 'Cas'.

"'Cas'? Who in the hell's that?"

When Benny looks over, he wants to rub his eyes to make sure his sight hasn't gone to shits. If what he sees is correct, the colour of sunrise is on Dean's cheeks and ears – a blush in the mists of spreading.

"Um." The pinks turns darker, as do Dean's lips when he bites them. Moist as perfect teeth take his full, bottom lip into his dark mouth. "Just a friend" – Benny snorts – "my mistake. Song's by White Lion."

He could care less about the song; his eyes stuck on Dean's freckle-face and tanned skin, the tip of his nose becoming pink, and hands wrung behind his back.

"Who's 'Cas'?" he asks. "Your belle?" The picture easily forms in his mind: small-waisted, long legged girl in shorts.

"N-No. Just a friend, you know. Likes White Lion – that deep political shit. Goes for that kind of thing." His voice catches speed. "Very go green shit with energy saving, pacifist bull. A humanist, the little fuck." As Dean speaks, a soft smile curves beneath the apples of his cheeks, the beginnings of crinkled-eyes show.

Kids fuckin' in love.

"Friend, eh?"

* * *

**3. **

Benny roams around Lawrence that evening. He stays out for two hours until his feet are somewhat sore and the chirping of birds and chatter of nearby people engulf his mind.

When he arrives to the shitty motel he's staying in, his thoughts turn to freckles and black shirts, ratty-tatty jeans, and stars in the eyes of a kid.

A full mouth with an unconditional pout is in his dreams.

* * *

**7. **

When Benny meets 'Cas' a curvy body and nice rack are prominent in his mind, not a flat-chested, scruffy-looking _man _in a white button-up and black jeans, with a backwards navy tie. He doesn't expect a deep voice either.

"Hello, I'm Castiel. Dean has told me much about you."

Well shit.

"Benny."

"I know." Castiel tilts his head.

They stare at each other, blue-blue eyes meeting blue-not blue eyes. Benny takes the sight in front of him, over the dishevelled appearance. Black hair, sickly pale skin, thin arms, scraggly clothes.

Dean chuckles, albeit awkwardly. "So Benny, this is Cas. Cas this is Benny."

"He just 'troduced him dumbass," Benny says.

"Asshole," Dean huffs.

"Would you like to go Harvelle's Roadhouse?" Castiel asks, looking between them. A frown mars his face, the crinkles around his eyes tighten and frown lines pronounce themselves, his laugh lines get deeper imbedded into his cheeks. His eyes, once a curious blue, are a clouded blue instead; eyelids flutter and eyelashes cast shadows.

Benny goes, because a kid who has the heart of Dean Winchester in his hands, needs to be understood.

* * *

**9. **

Dean's sitting next to Benny on a playground bench. They wait for Castiel to exit his house; it's the plain white one across the street. A cat trots around the green lawn.

He's trying not to watch the house, trying not to watch Castiel come out and face them. Instead, he eyes the cat. Cute – and Benny doesn't use that word often – ginger cat chasing something around the lawn. Leaping and capturing thin air. He watches until the cat runs behind the house, still chasing something or another.

"He your boy?" Benny asks.

The past two days, all he's seen are crinkle-eyed smiles and laugh lines on a prominent frown-line face. There's always a sandy-haired head thrown back in laughter, shoulders shaking from whatever's funny and black-haired head hung down with a case of the giggles.

He registers this strange dull ache in his chest when he remembers, but chooses to ignore it all the time. He's a friend. That's all.

"What?" Dean half-yells, eyes wide. "No, no, no. He's just a friend – I've told you that man."

But there's too much denying for that to be true. Too much shaking of the head and fake, wide and earnest green-eyes.

Benny tries to accept it.

* * *

**11. **

Benny sleeps the whole day. Awakens from tinkling laughs and sweet kisses only to force himself to sleep again. Motel cracked windows allow bright, morning light to seep onto his bed and into his eyes – he has no choice but to fall onto the floor and bring the blanket with him.

He ignores his vibrating phone in favour of spending time with a stained carpet and thin, cotton blankets.

Ignores his phone in favour of dreaming. Dreams of sad blue-blue eyes and crooked smiles directed at starry-eyed Dean.

He falls asleep and dreams of himself: stocky and tall, holding the hand of freckle-face and tearing the brighter-than-his-own-blue eyes off a sickly pale face. All that's left are eye sockets, black holes reminding him of Dean's open mouth. Twin pink tongues sneak out and wrap themselves around him, sucking him into Castiel's body.

There's a moment of utter darkness; then a quiet murmur of:

"You know."

Benny awakens.

* * *

**16.**

Dean picks him up in his '69 Chevy Impala, which he calls _Baby_. Castiel's already riding shotgun.

When he gets in, the same song from Harvelle's Roadhouse begins to play – Castiel's song. Dean sings, loud and clear whilst Castiel giggles. His giggle is awkwardly different from his normal voice, it's lighter in tone, brighter in feel, and brings sunflowers to the front of Benny's mind.

He can't understand why.

Sometimes, Castiel's gruff voice joins in, breaks through the giggles, but Benny only hears it once and that's when Dean's eyes are off the road and his crinkle-eyed smile is directed at him. Castiel stares back.

The song ends and the moment ends with it.

Benny notices when Dean looks at his rear-view mirror and his eyes widen in surprise. Remembers Benny's in the car, realizes the too friendly moment he's just had with Castiel was viewed.

Benny tries not to care, but the dull ache returns and he turns his head to the window.

* * *

**20. **

"You like Dean."

Dean's on his way to the order two bacon-cheese's and one cheeseburger with a side of fries, and two cups of coke – a medium and small – when Castiel tells Benny what he's learned.

Dean has his eyes on the waitress cleaning the countertop. A mousy-brown haired girl with too big blue eyes and a young face – Castiel's lips are on her and his razor-sharp cheekbones. Dean's an idiot.

"It's acceptable if you do. He likes you too," Castiel continues.

Benny can see the broken-hearted stare and dominant frown-lines, tense eye-crinkles and tight mouth. There's the way Castiel grips his left hand with his right as if he's gripping his own heart.

"As a friend, kid. I'm only a friend." He doesn't mean for it to sound sad.

Castiel gives him a twisted smile. "He's single. Into both sexes too."

Crestfallen blue-blue eyes. Dimly lit blue-not blue eyes. They meet again.

"Drop it kid." _Take your own advice_.

"Drop what?"

Dean stands at the end of the fingerprint stained, silver table. He holds a full tray: three burgers and two sodas. His eyes question the scene before him: two head hung messes.

"Nothing, Dean."

Starry-eyes meet blue-blue ones first then blue-not blue ones. There's a difference in the number of stars but only Benny spots them.

Both of these idiots are blind.

Dean sits beside Benny. Castiel gives him a pointed look.

Benny scoffs and reaches for his burger.

He gets the small coke and a straw is already in place. Dean and Castiel shared the medium-sized cup, same straw.

They share a not-so kiss.

Benny gives Castiel a pointed look, but Castiel's too busy counting Dean's freckles to take notice.

* * *

**21.**

Castiel tells Dean he can't go with them to the far-away park in God knows where.

He's meeting Balthazar. _To hangout_, he says.

Benny hears the whole conversation since Dean smiled when he first saw the caller ID and put it on speaker.

He hangs up with fiery-eyes and _Dammit_.

They don't go to the park.

* * *

**25. **

"Balthazar kissed me," Castiel's voice crackles over the phone.

Dean glances at Benny, his face pleads for help yet his hands clench into fists. "What happened?"

"He kissed me," Castiel repeats.

"No shit," Dean says. "What d'you do?"

"I-I pushed him away," he replies.

The crackle of his voice hits Benny's ears. Visions of Dean and Castiel interlocked at the lips invade his thoughts – a pale hand finding its way into short, sandy hair. His heart grows cold; a smile comes to his lips.

"Good, Cas. That's good." Dean goes starry-eyed, freckles dance upon his face. Benny can see the crinkles around his eyes forming.

Benny's proud, an ache even prods his chest.

* * *

**29.**

Castiel stays home that day. He wants to read, he saysthat he's trying to finish 50 novels before summer ends. Says it's his goal.

Benny tries not to smile when Dean relays the information to him. His lip twitches, but that isn't his fault.

Skyblue skies overhead as they make their way, fluffy white clouds float, and pigeons flap their wings. The grass is dewy and air, humid. Part of Benny regrets leaving his apartment; the other one wants to see Dean's crinkle-eyed smile and wrung hands directed at him.

Their soft footsteps on the gravel road are the only noise they make, deciding to trek in silence to the woody area of the park – a place where no kids go in fear of getting lost and falling into the shadows.

"It's only trees," says Dean.

Leaves crunch beneath their feet, twigs snap, and Dean saddles closer to Benny.

"Balthazar, huh?" Benny asks. And he's an idiot too, because Dean belongs to Castiel.

Dean hand clenches. "Yeah. That fucker. He's a piece of shit." He falls to the ground and leans on a reaching-to-the-heavens tree. Crunching leaves stop crunching beneath him.

Benny shrugs and sits, cross-legged. Twigs snap.

"Is he?"

"What's it to you? You like him?" Dean glares.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Never met the guy, kid."

"Then stop asking."

Pigeons flap their wings and skyblue skies swirl around them. There's silence – too much for it to be intentional. It's awkward and suffocating, Dean starts tapping his fingers, Benny begins scanning the area they find themselves in.

Tall wooden trees – pine and oak – barricade them. There's some fog surrounding them, but it's nothing. Barely any really, yet it curls _around _them. Benny swears Dean is closer than he should be. He knows he shouldn't be able to feel Dean's breath. He shouldn't be able to know Dean has cinnamon flavoured gum in his mouth. Yet, he does.

He turns his head to the side, to Dean's half-lidded green-eyes, Dean's freckles, Dean's unconditional pout.

If he leans closer, his lips would touch Dean's own. He'd finally feel them in between his own, he'd have his chubby fingers through sandy-blond hair, and his hands would feel leather under them. Dean's scent would infuse with his own, and Benny thinks it would recreate the smell of thunder.

The heart stopping sounds.

Dean's and Castiel's would create lightning. The diffusing white sight, contrast against the usual purple sky. The speed of light would sink underneath them. Thunder, to them, is a cheap aftershock. They'd fall in love with their own image, fall for the jagged cuts on their skin, trace themselves on the other.

Benny's only job here is to help the strikes intertwine and pierce themselves onto the purple sky, to fall away when the sun shines and become clouds stuck together, sharing space in the boundless blue.

He has no right.

He pulls away.

* * *

**34.**

They sit on the hood of Dean's Impala.

Benny's allowed to drink beer, Dean and Castiel aren't, but here they are – each of them holding a tan glass bottle in their hand.

"Y'all are idiots you know," Benny says. His mouth is loose; four beers are enough for that. He's watching the sun set, the sky turn melon-pink and tropical orange.

"You're an idiot," Dean replies. He's on his second, yet Benny notes his barely glassy eyes.

"Shit," Benny says, "I'm not the one – I'm not the one who's fuckin' around." He lays back and watches the pink and orange merge together. A lovely hue forms.

There's something in the way they blend, overcoming each other until that last of themselves stay and become something new. There's something in the way one colour is more prominent than the other that reminds Benny of handholding.

Except in the art of handholding, those hands sweat. It becomes uncomfortable, Benny knows this, yet you continue holding hands.

He's still not sure why, even after Andrea.

Maybe he'll never really understand it all.

* * *

**38. **

Dean goes to Lisa's days later, leaving Benny and Castiel alone at the diner with a lousy farewell:

"I'll go over to yours later, Cas. See ya Benny."

He gets up to the table with his canned pop and shoots a lazy wink over his shoulder. A silent signal of what he expects to come from his visit.

_Idiot_, Benny thinks.

Castiel isn't stupid, Benny knows that much. Hours of listening to Dean talk about how Castiel had straight A's last year and all the teacher's loved him and _He wasn't even a teacher's pet!_ Benny's heard it all, so this wink isn't a gesture that Castiel doesn't understand.

Benny's pretty sure Castiel gets it well enough for the previous brightness on his face to fall to the floor, leaving only the remnants of the Castiel Dean holds.

Benny says, "Kid" – the words coming out of his mouth shouldn't even have formed in his head, and nothing will soothe the ache that keeps on prodding him in the chest, but maybe helping Castiel will. Let's face it, the kid's hopeless – "he likes you, y'know?"

Castiel's eyes go from his pop to Benny's eyes. There's something swirling in those blue-blue eyes Benny doesn't want to pay attention to; he can't look away. He faces those eyes, lets them try and understand what's reserved under Benny's skin – the almost-kiss in the woods, the words that fly out of Dean's mouth whenever he says _Castiel_, White Lion.

"Excuse me?" Castiel asks seconds later.

And this is all so stupid.

"Yeah" – the ache nears his heart – "you should hear him go on about those eyes of yours. He's named almost ever' shade of blue, my ears wanna retire."

Truth is, Benny's only known Castiel for a month. All he's ever really heard from the kid's mouth is _Dean _and _White Lion_ and _the Roadhouse_. There's no reason for him to know the movement of his fingers against his can signals blushing. Yet he knows and he knows why. "Really?"

Benny chuckles. "Yeah. Talk to him 'bout it t'morrow. You won't regret it kid."

Suddenly, Castiel seems nervous. He reaches for a napkin, folds it, unfolds it. Repeat. "What should I do?" He leans forward, half his body lies on the table.

Placing his arms on Castiel's tensed shoulders, he gently pushes him down. "Kid, all you have to do is say: I like you."

"That's it?"

Benny teasing smile turns into a frown. He feels it. The muscles around his mouth shift, they pull downwards, his eyebrows droop, and his jaw tenses. It's not the reaction he expects to the question.

It's not the reaction he wants as he sees blue-blue eyes stare at him hopefully, full of longing for Dean that it hurts.

"That's it kid."

* * *

**41.**

Castiel doesn't ask Dean. Dean slept with Lisa. And Benny … he wants to crawl in a hole and tell the two morons to get over it. He wants to see them hand in hand going to watch a crappy movie. He wants to see lightning.

He wants to grab Dean's sand coloured hair and press his lips to the unconditional pout. He wants to feel black leather bunched against his navy blue coat, the smooth feeling under his stocky fingers. He wants to see stars growing by the thousands just for him.

He wants to tell Castiel:

"He loves you."

* * *

**44. **

Benny doesn't speak to Dean or Castiel for six days. There are no fucks given during them, only the ones that fall from his mouth as he lies in bed with tainted boxers and flushed skin.

He orders takeout and watches the news. The phone on his nightstand vibrates ten times the first two days.

On the third day, it only vibrates once. Benny figures it was time.

He doesn't try to leave. He doesn't try to do anything, but his hand finds his way into his pants before he has time to think the fourth day. He imagines starry-eyes, then crestfallen blue-blue eyes enter his mind. The thought makes his breathing go uneven, and he pulls his hand out.

He thinks of Andrea instead.

* * *

**46**.

"Where you been, man?"

"Sleeping."

"You slept for seven fucking days? Straight through?"

"There may been some takeout and a few movie maratho – "

" – Star Wars?"

"One of 'em."

"… Awesome. Call me next time, I might ask to join."

"All right, brother."

"Brother?"

"Southern thing."

"Cool."

* * *

**49.**

Dean's a curious kid, Benny learns. He calls 'Sammy' the _nerd of the family _but talks about Vonnegut and says obscure references Sammy ain't even know. He calls 'Cas' the _undermined political junkie _but speaks out when the news are on. There's never a day Benny goes by his side, he doesn't ask questions.

After a month and two weeks – almost three, of knowing Dean, he shouldn't be surprised when Dean asks him, _Why'd you move?_

Castiel's sipping from a plastic bottle of pop, but cautiously puts it down the moment the question leaves Dean's mouth. He places it in the circle in the middle of his crossed legs, places it gently on the grass beneath him.

Always so careful, he thinks.

"Why d'you wanna know?"

Dean's eyebrow rises. "Can't a guy ask a question?"

"Not you."

He throws his head back and laughs. "Too true. C'mon, tell me."

Benny's been sitting on the grass, legs stretched out before him while Dean lies in front of him. His fingers tap on his stomach while his head rests on Castiel's raised thigh.

"Can't hurt."

Except, this is Dean, and it always aches.

"There was this … girl, my girl, Andrea" – his lips have forgotten the vowels and consonants – "and I'm gonna sound Disney and say, she was the one."

Dean's silent; his fingers continue tapping a muted beat as Benny travels back to tinkling laughs and sweet kisses.

Castiel brushes his fingers through Dean's hair.

"We was gonna marry after high school, the second we got out. She'd have her weddin' dress under her robe and I'd have a store bought tux. Private ceremony, y'know" – _we planned religiously, my mama said not to raise my hopes_. "She didn't want somethin' so upscale, neither did I. And we were out and about in my old town in Louisiana, when this guy comes up and – well, he goes and tries to 'mug' us."

Dean's fingers stop in their rhythm. They pick up again. Castiel continues moving his hand through Dean's hair, yet the twitch in his arm jumps out in the corner of Benny's eyes.

"Seven months before graduation and we been dating since our freshmen year. I tell ya man, we were meant to be."

His fingers stop their silent tapping altogether. "Where's she now then?"

"Gone."

* * *

**54.**

Dean picks up Benny in his baby. Castiel isn't there. He parallel parks near the Roadhouse.

"Why'd you stop?" Benny asks.

"I thought you were coming on to me."

"That's why you stopped?"

"No! I thought – in the woods … weren't you going to –"

"– kiss you?" At Dean's nod, Benny sighs. "Brother, I'd never get in the way of what you got going on with Cas."

Silence.

"With what I have with Cas? W-What d'ya mean?"

Benny sighs again. "Don't count me for a fool, brother. I see the looks you give him –"

"– What looks –"

"– _and_ I don't wanna ruin that."

"There's nothing goin' on between me and Cas!"

"Brother, all he does is for you," Benny says.

Dean's eyes dim and brighten all at once. His eyebrows furrow and his lip twists; a vein bulges in his neck.

"He doesn't do everything for me." The words leave his mouth, and the only thing Benny hears is _I'm an idiot_.

He gives Dean a gentle look. "Let's go get some bacon– "

"– if you love Andrea, why'd you come onto me?"

"… My form of moving on," Benny says gruffly.

"How was that 'moving on'?"

"You take comfort where you can get it."

The silence is stiff, Benny wants to take a knife, cut into tiny pieces, and throw them all away. Dean's hands grip the steering wheel tightly, an untold story in the veins sticking out and the darkness of his once bright starry eyes.

He turns to Benny and smiles, fake yet bordering on real. "That's the first time you called him 'Cas'."

Benny chuckles; Dean joins.

* * *

**58.**

At two a.m., Benny gets a phone call from PRIVATE NUMBER.

"Who the fucks callin' me?"

"Hello Benny, this is Castiel." Pause. "Have I interrupted your sleep?"

"Nah man, I was eating my breakfast two seconds ago."

"It's too early for breakfast."

Another pause.

"Dean has been trying to teach me sarcasm; I haven't gotten the hang of it yet."

"I can tell." He slaps a hand over his face. This kid. "There a reason you're callin' so early?"

"Yes! Of course," Castiel says, there's crackling on the other end of the phone, "Dean has invited me to 'catch a movie'."

Benny groans. "And? I'm sure you watch movies all the time."

"However this time he asked me to, 'dress nicely' and added, 'I'll buy'. We usually pay separate tickets." He inhales loudly. "Can this be considered a date?"

"Kid, you called me to ask if –" Benny chuckles "– Why don't you ask Dean yourself?"

"I think the question is inappropriate."

"Then why're you askin' me?"

"You've had more experience in this than anyone I know."

_How many people _do _you know?_ "Don't bring that up again."

"Apologies."

"Just … dress nicely like he says, bring some money in case he brings too little, and do what you normally do."

"Thank you Benny, that was very insightful." Pause. "Goodnight."

"Erase my number."

* * *

**65.**

Castiel calls him again and leaves a voicemail:

"The film was great. Your advice was as well. He forgot the money and I had to pay for his unhealthy eating habits. The tickets were another thing entirely; both tickets were less than his snacks. I have saved your number, if I ever need any social help, I must call you. Dean would lie to me rather than help. It has happened once before."

There is no ache in Benny's chest when he listens, only a small smile that he denies happened.

* * *

**69.**

Benny doesn't see Dean or Cas for four days. Bets are on: making out like horny teenagers in the Impala.

* * *

**70.**

It turns out, he was right.

* * *

**72.**

The days he finally sees Dean and Cas, they're hand in hand and sitting on a park bench. Castiel has a book in hand, from the red and yellow cover, Benny guesses _Slaughterhouse-Five_. He mouths a few words, and Dean soaks them up.

"Finally," Benny says, once he's a foot away from them.

Dean turns pink. "Shut up."

"Hello Benny." Castiel continues to read, this time silent and eyes flickering quickly over the words on the tattered pages. Obviously Dean's copy.

"Cas."

Castiel smiles.

Benny eyes Dean. He opens his mouth –

"Don't," Dean says.

"What?"

"Just don't."

"Brother, you know this is gonna happen sooner or later, might as well get it over with."

Dean sighs.

**79.**

Making out in the Impala isn't the worst of Benny's problems.


End file.
